


A Match Made At Holly's

by rebecca (blueraccoon), sanders



Category: Criminal Minds, NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueraccoon/pseuds/rebecca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanders/pseuds/sanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Tony meet while both are off the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Match Made At Holly's

**Author's Note:**

> written a while ago for rounds_of_kink.

Hollander's looks like a hole in the wall from the street. It keeps out people with no business being there, the ones who don't know it's properly referred to as Holly's and hides more behind the rough wood floors and doors, that if swung the wrong way, could take out an NFL linebacker. The ones who have business there know that the carved sign over the front door might be on the kind of street best avoided at midnight but the hallway to the right of the required-by-law-but-rarely-used women's bathroom leads to Delirium with its discreet exit into one of the trendiest neighborhoods in the city. 

Derek Morgan has... something there. Not business, because that's done for the day. Hell, it's the reason he's got a bottle in one hand from the bar in Holly's and the other on the door through to the club. Maybe it's an itch or a need or just looking for something that'll let him forget, but it's definitely not professional.

He pays the cover and lets the bouncer scan his fingerprint, and thanks God for Garcia with her own little secrets and ability to make sure it'll be gone by noon. He'll pay her back in details and coffee, but he won't regret it, not if he finds whatever it is he needs. 

~* ~* ~*~

Holly's is usually a good choice, usually a place Tony DiNozzo can find temporary amnesia, whether it's in a bottle or a back room. 

Usually.

Tonight doesn't seem to be the case. He's got a cold beer in one hand and a seat on the barstool and the place is filled with all kinds of people. There's a silver-haired guy in the corner--but the point is to forget, not to pick up someone who reminds him of why he came here in the first place. Tony sighs and takes a drink of his beer. Maybe Holly's was the wrong place. Maybe he should take a cab across town and go watch the scene at Underside, maybe he should take the Metro up a few stops and hit Lime, pick up a pretty woman in not enough clothes, maybe he should just go home and get drunk. Maybe...

Tony looks up, seeing someone new coming into the small club. Could be interesting, he supposes, although he's not about to go make his way over to him and find out. He's by the bar, if Tall, Dark, and Bald decides to come over, he'll say hello. Nothing wrong with that.

~* ~* ~*~

Derek's seen him before, brown hair, about six two, can't decide whether he wants to be cocky, brooding or shy, and maybe one day, when Derek hasn't flown home in borrowed scrubs because his clothes are in an evidence bag covered in brain matter, he'll talk to him. He'd probably make an interesting profile to consider, but right now, the profile of the near empty Corona bottle is what matters. If he slips through the small crowd to stand next to the guy, well, it's just coincidence. 

Tony takes a drink of his beer. "Evening," he says, glancing up. Definitely cute, definitely edgy, could be a good thing or could be the worst idea he's had since--no, not going there. Not going there at all. He nods at the bartender. "I'll take a refill," he says.

"Another of these," Derek says to the bartender, setting the empty bottle on the bar. "You know he never tells anyone his real name?" He looks the guy beside him, hazel eyes, nicer mouth than at a distance and more expensive clothes.

"Place like this, can't really blame him," Tony says. "You have a name?" 

"Morgan," Derek says. "His mother, by the way, calls him Daniel. What about you?"

"Tony." He taps his bottle against Morgan's and takes another drink. "You come here often enough to know his name, I'm impressed."

"Never said it was his real name," Derek points out. It's not at all what's on Daniel's birth certificate or driver's license, but he's not here to think about that or how he knows. "And I don't come here all that often. Just when---when there's a reason."

"Yeah. Know the feeling." Tony leans back against the bar. He knows, all too well. Law enforcement's a bitch, and if Morgan tries to deny being some kind of cop, agent, whatever, Tony will eat his badge without salt. He knows one when he sees one. Not that he's going to ask. Holly's isn't a place to get into life history.

"Then the only thing you can do is get drunk, maybe get groped, go home, start all over again in the morning," Derek says, looking out toward the dance floor. "Guessing you're just here for the first part. I should let you get back to that."

"If you've got a better offer I'm all ears," Tony says, setting his bottle down. "I can get drunk at home. Figured I'd come here see if I could find the rest. You?" 

Derek smiles. "You want the truth?" he asks. "My dog doesn't approve of my taste in liquor. Broke two bottles of very nice bourbon with one swipe of his tail then nudged me toward the door. I'm only here because I have a Lab with attitude."

"Bourbon only works if you're drinking in your basement with a boat," Tony says, almost under his breath. "Guess I'll let you get back to your drink, then."

"Don't have a basement and it sounds like a damned stupid place for a boat," Derek says, not missing the look that passes over Tony's face. It's none of his business and he has a decision to make. He takes another drink of his beer and moves a little closer to Tony's side. "You really should be careful about details like that. People remember those kinds of things."

Tony gives Morgan a bright smile. "You trying to hit on me or give me an alibi, Morgan?" 

"Just a tip," Derek says, shrugging easily and scrambling to remember why the boat in the basement sounds familiar. "If I were hitting on you, you'd know, and---and how often do you need an alibi, Tony?"

"Depends, what month is it?" Tony asks lightly. He takes one last drink of his beer and sets the bottle down. "You want to talk all night or do you want to get out of here?" 

Derek sets his bottle alongside Tony's. "Have a nice night, officer," he says. "Or is it agent?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Tony counters. "Have a good night." 

~* ~* ~*~

The next time Tony shows up, Derek's the one sitting at the bar inside Delirium, three beers into a night that calls for something much harder. He sees Tony heading his way and gives a half-hearted smile and a nod toward the empty stool beside him. Stilted conversation with an officer of some unknown agency is a little less pathetic than drinking alone. 

Tony slides onto the stool and nods at the bartender. "Scotch, neat," he says. "Whatever won't poison me." It's been that kind of day. That kind of week, really. He picks up his drink and tips a healthy portion back. "Evening, Agent," he says, feeing the burn.

"Tony." Derek nods to him. "You look better than I feel, but not by much. Things rough at the DEA?"

"Wouldn't know," Tony says. "How's life at the Bureau?" 

"Nice guess. What tipped you off?" Derek asks. "Or do we all just look alike to you guys over at NCIS?"

"The attitude, man," Tony says, taking another sip of his Scotch. "Never met a Fibbie without it." 

"And here I was, thinking I'd been a nice guy," Derek says, picking at the corner of the label on his bottle.

"Didn't say you weren't," Tony says. "I have to respect any guy with a dog." 

Derek gives him a little smile. "Not sure how much longer I'll be one of those guys," he admits. "Would you still respect me?"

"I'd think about it," Tony says, smiling back. "If you gave me a reason to."

"What if I said I'll cover your next drink?" Derek asks. "Whether you stay here to finish it or go off with one of those five guys over there checking you out is up to you."

Tony doesn't bother looking at the guys Morgan references. "I'd say that would be a good start," he says, tossing back the last of his drink. "What's been so crappy in your day that you're out here?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Derek motions to Daniel for another for Tony. 

"I always want to know," Tony says. "Who died?"

Derek looks at him for a moment before looking away again. "A cop and two of her kids," he says and takes a swig of his beer.

Tony blows out a breath and looks at his own drink. "Yeah," he says. "I'm amazed you're only sticking to beer."

"Only because I hate flying hung over and I don't know where we're going tomorrow," Derek says. "What about you?"

"Well, no one died," Tony says. "But I had to arrest a fifteen-year-old kid for killing his father." 

"Been there," Derek says. "Those are never easy cases."

"No. No, they're not," Tony says. He sighs. "So now that we've depressed each other, what next?"

"Drink more, maybe dance," Derek says. "Go back to Holly's and play pool. After that, I don't know. I can't think that far ahead."

"Sounds like a plan," Tony says, picking up his glass. "You any good at pool?"

"They train us for it at the academy," Derek says. "Didn't you know that?"

"Missed that one," Tony says. "Must be why I'm not a Fibbie."

"Oh, we get classes in all kinds of social games," Derek says, smiling around the mouth of his beer as he takes another drink. "Quarters, pool, poker, the best uses of Truth or Dare in interrogation."

"Nice to know the taxpayers' money is so well spent," Tony says, smiling back. "We'll have to see if your pool skills match up to mine."

"Match?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "You think I'd play in public if I were that bad?"

"Oh, now I'm hurt," Tony says, taking another drink. "You think I'd offer if I wasn't convinced I could beat you?"

"We'll see," Derek says, sliding off of the stool. "Care to make a wager on it?"

"Twenty," Tony says, sliding off the stool as well. "I'm a poor broke federal agent."

"In that case, I don't think I could take your money," Derek says, looking at him for a moment. "Then again, anyone who can afford to wear Ralph Lauren to come here can't be doing that badly."

"Clothes are an investment," Tony says. "Let's play and see how it goes, shall we?"

One game turns into two because Tony can't take losing and Derek wants definitive bragging rights. Game three starts because breaking even isn't acceptable, and, frankly, Derek doesn't exactly mind getting to stand back and watch Tony lean over the table to line up a shot. He waits for the miss he knew was coming and grins at Tony. "How about upping the stakes, Special Agent?"

"What'd you have in mind?" Tony asks, leaning against the table.

"Normally, I'd say breakfast, but I have to be in Kansas tomorrow," Derek says, taking the two strides over to the table. "And with as badly as you've been handling that stick this time around, I'm not sure I'd want to go that far anyway." He balances the cue against the edge of the table, looking to see what he has left. "So, I'll tell you what, I'll take your money and a kiss."

Tony grins. "All right, Special Agent," he says. "And if I win, I'll take the same. Your money and a kiss."

"I don't think you have a chance," Derek says. He takes his shot and sinks two more of his balls. "You know, you could save yourself the humiliation and just pay up now."

"I never pay in advance," Tony says.

"Humiliation it is," Derek says. He clears the rest of the table without error and tries to smile apologetically at Tony. What happens instead is a grin and barely restrained laughter. "All right, get ready to pay up. Eight ball, side pocket."

"I'm still watching," Tony says, smirking back.

"Good," Derek says, taking his time to really consider the angle of the shot. The ball goes in cleanly.

"Never let it be said that I don't pay my bets," Tony says, holding out a twenty. "Here's your money." He waits for Morgan to take it before brushing his lips against the guy's cheek. "And there's your kiss."

"Aw, that was sweet," Derek says, touching his cheek with one hand and tucking the bill into his pocket with the other. "Just like I kiss my grandma."

Tony grins. "You didn't say what kind of kiss you wanted," he points out. "I may be easy but I'm not cheap, and you just took twenty bucks off me. Take what you can get, Morgan."

"You lost the money fair and square. You even suggested the amount," Derek says, shifting so Tony's between his body and the edge of the pool table. He runs his hand along Tony's arm, shoulder to wrist, barely brushing their fingers together. 

"And I paid up," Tony says. "If you don't want my money, I'll be happy to take it back." His hand flexes, just a little, and he stills it.

"You can win it back next time," Derek says, curving his fingers to touch Tony's palm. "And it's not really your money I'm interested in."

"Never woulda guessed," Tony says. "What time's your flight tomorrow?"

"Wheels up at eight," Derek says. "Which means I really should be heading home soon."

"Mmhmm." Tony steps out from between Morgan's body and the pool table. "Have a nice night."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me, but I see how it is," Derek says, taking Tony's cue from him to put them both back in the rack against the wall. 

Tony rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, you can't win 'em all, Agent." He steps forward to brush his lips over Morgan's. "See you around." He turns and heads for the door, not looking back.

"Yeah, see you," Derek says under his breath. He heads to the bar for one last drink.

~* ~* ~*~

Tony's not really sure what he's looking for at Holly's, only that it had better be something other than the semi-flirting and drinks and pool he's had the last couple of times he's shown up. There's a restless need burning in him, a bright jittery feeling he knows too well. Nothing's going to make that go away except what he might possibly find here.

He doesn't let himself think about what he really wants, what would work better than anything else he can do. That's not an option.

The first beer's gone almost before he knows it and the second one doesn't take much longer. Tony slides off the barstool and makes his way out to the dance floor, settling in among the crowd. There'll always be someone willing to dance with him, and that's a start. 

Derek's started to look for him, for Tony, and after three trips to Holly's and no luck in two weeks, he finally spots him. Of course, he doesn't approach him. For one thing, the boy---and he is a boy, barely legal, almost too pretty---Tony's dancing with probably wouldn't appreciate being left in the middle of a song. For another, he doesn't know if he can take another of their weird ass interactions. 

The song changes and Tony smiles at his partner before making his way off the floor. Another drink, maybe something stronger than a beer. He's not having a whole lot of luck finding the rest of what he wants. Maybe he's just in the wrong place. Maybe--"Morgan," he says with a nod, sliding onto a barstool. He's not really sure if he wants to see the guy or not, but hell, he's here.

"Tony." Derek returns the nod and holds out a twenty. "Same one. Should get you enough scotch to forget whatever you're trying to forget tonight."

"Might," Tony says. "Buy you a drink?" 

"You can try," Derek says. "I don't know if Daniel'll let me have it."

"Why's that?" Tony asks. "You piss him off?"

Derek laughs. "No, nothing like that," he says. "For one thing, I don't think he knows how to get pissed off. He's just sick of seeing me mope at his bar and go home alone."

"Yeah, but now you're moping with me," Tony says, nodding at Daniel. "Not that I'm moping, exactly." He snags the bottle Daniel slides across the bar and hands the other one to Morgan. "Just...looking."

"For?" Derek asks, accepting the beer and taking a drink.

"Depends," Tony says. "You offering anything?"

"Level with me, Tony," Derek says, turning to look at him. "You tell me what you want, I'll tell you if I can give it to you."

Tony studies him for a long moment. "I want to forget," he says. "I want one night where I don't have to think about anything." 

"Don't we all," Derek says softly. "Finish your drink, since you paid for it, then come dance with me."

If he were less restless, less--something--he'd demand to know why, to know what Morgan gets out of this, but honestly he doesn't care right now. Tony nods abruptly and takes a long pull on his beer before sliding off the barstool.

"Just trust me," Derek says, seeing the skepticism flash across Tony's face. "If all you're thinking about is whether we'd be as good in bed together as we are on the dance floor, the rest of it can't get at you."

"Or you?" Tony asks, following Morgan out to the dance floor. "Don't tell me I'm the only one looking for something tonight."

Derek smiles, turning toward Tony. "I came here looking for you," he admits, standing close enough to whisper it to him. 

Tony smiles slowly. "Well, you found me," he says. "You can even take me home." 

"I was hoping you'd say that." Derek takes his hand and pulls him closer, starting to move to the music. Tony keeps up with him, moving easily, and when Derek slides against him, he doesn't shy away.

Dancing with Morgan's a good start. They move together well, not that Tony's all that surprised, and like Morgan said, it's enough to make him wonder what things will be like later. He settles his hands on Morgan's hips, closing his eyes. 

Derek slides his hand over Tony's shoulder and up to the back of his neck, slipping his fingers just inside his collar to touch skin. "Isn't so bad now, is it?" he asks, brushing his lips against the curve of Tony's jaw. 

"Could be worse," Tony admits, leaning his forehead against Morgan's. "Could also be better." 

"How about this?" Derek murmurs and tilts his head to press his lips against Tony's. He kisses him, soft and sweet, and just barely pulls away.

Tony kisses him back, longer this time. "S'good," he murmurs back. 

It really is, and Derek runs his hands over Tony's back, their bodies not quite fitting together as well as their mouths. It won't matter when they're lying down, or if Tony's on his knees, though. He deepens the kiss, lets it turn harder and just a little more needy.

It's way too early for him to fall and he's not *entirely* certain that's how the evening's going to go anyway, but the urge is there. Tony throttles it back, giving as good as he's getting into the kiss, his tongue tangling with Morgan's. 

Derek finally breaks the kiss when the way they're rubbing against each other threatens to become less sexual and more actual sex. He leans his head against Tony's shoulder for a moment, breathing against the side of his neck and taking in the faint scent of cologne. "Your place or mine?" he asks. 

Tony gives it a bare thought before shrugging. "Don't care," he says. "Where's closer? I'm about twenty minutes from here."

"Yours, then," Derek says. He rests his hand against Tony's back as they make their way off of the dance floor and toward the doors, and he's never been more grateful for the taxi stand outside. 

~* ~* ~*~

Derek doesn't touch him once they're in the cab. There's no reason for it when he can whisper things that make Tony try to hide the way he shivers in response. He ignores the few times Tony tries to respond in kind, just talking right over him. He stops when the car does, and he picks up the tab before following Tony inside and up to his apartment. Then it's time to make good on the whispered offers once shoes have been slipped off and the door closed. 

Tony looks good, pressed against his own wall, and feels better when Derek kisses him, picking up where they left off in the club. He licks his way into Tony's mouth, tracing the edge of his teeth and letting their tongues slide together. His hands find the buttons lining the front of Tony's shirt and he begins opening them one by one.

His shirt falls open and Tony shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the ground. He reaches for the hem of Morgan's t-shirt, reluctant to break the kiss but wanting the fabric out of the way. 

Derek takes a half step back and peels off his shirt, dropping it on top of Tony's. "Bedroom?" he asks, hooking his fingers just inside of Tony's waistband and leaning up to kiss him again.

"Yeah," Tony says, but it's a second before he moves. "This way." He leads Morgan down the hall and into the bedroom, flipping on the bedside lamp but leaving the overhead off.

"Nice," Derek murmurs, as much about the room as the view of Tony's ass as he leans over to turn on the light. He slides his arms around Tony before he can turn around, pressing his lips to the back of his neck. Tony's jeans open easily and he slips one hand inside. 

Tony groans, hips rocking into Morgan's hand before he can stop himself. "Fuck me," he says, his voice needier than he wants it to be. 

"Getting there," Derek says, taking his hand away to shove Tony's jeans down enough to fall on their own. "On the bed." He gives him a gentle push in that direction and pulls away to get out of his pants and boxers. 

The rest of his clothes land in a heap and Tony settles on the bed, opening the nightstand to snag condoms and lube. "You'll need these," he says.

"In a minute, yeah," Derek says, crawling onto the bed and over Tony to straddle his thighs. "Been wondering if you were overcompensating with all the attitude. Turns out I was right, you weren't, at all."

Tony smirks a little; he can't help it. "I don't need to," he says, leaning back on his elbows. "Neither do you."

"Oh, I know I don't," Derek says, mirroring Tony's smirk as he drags the tip of one finger down over Tony's stomach and across his hip. 

Tony leans up to kiss Morgan again, rubbing his cheek over Derek's jaw and feeling the brush of his stubble. "Nice ink," he murmurs, tracing the line on Morgan's arm.

"Glad you think so," Derek murmurs back, sliding his hands up to Tony's shoulders and pushing him back against the bed. He moves with him, breath catching when his cock rubs against Tony's, and he kisses him again, curling his fingers against the back of Tony's neck.

Tony groans, tipping his head back instinctively. Derek's hands tighten just a little on his skin and he shivers, his body going liquid. "Fuck me," he whispers against Morgan's mouth.

Derek catches Tony's lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently. "The way things have been with us, I oughta walk away right now," he says, tilting his head to nip at Tony's throat. "Maybe in a week, you'd come find me again." He reaches out to grab the bottle of lube and shifts a little to slick his fingers. 

"Maybe I would," Tony says, swallowing. "Or maybe not. You really want to risk finding out?"

"You would," Derek says, sliding one knee between Tony's and wrapping his hand firmly around Tony's cock. "You hate not getting what you want, and you want me."

"You--you know, I can make the same statement," Tony points out. His breath catches in his throat and he groans softly, pushing up into Morgan's hand.

"I did come looking for you," Derek reminds him, stroking him slowly and paying attention to which little touches make Tony respond and how. "Another couple of days, and I'd have tracked down your number, maybe even offered dinner to get you into bed."

"I'll let you buy me breakfast," Tony says with a fleeting grin. "I--oh." He groans again, eyes sliding closed.

"If you're good, I'll make you breakfast," Derek says. He rolls his hips, rubbing against Tony in the same lazy rhythm as his strokes, deciding that if there's a god and their phones don't ring at oh-dark-thirty, he might make Tony breakfast.

"I'm always good," Tony says with a bright smile. "Usually fantastic, even."

Derek laughs, going still as he slides his hand back, fingers brushing between Tony's cheeks. "Your ego's amazing," he says, thinking again that Tony would make for a great case study. "Still not as impressive as... other things."

Tony draws one leg up, bending his knee to make it easier for Morgan. "I'm glad you think so," he says, watching Morgan, the flex and shift of the muscles in his chest and his arm. 

"Mmm... I do," Derek murmurs, pushing himself up and back a little to see the way Tony's body begins to open for his finger then fingers. "Also think your whole problem is going too long without a good hard fuck." He twists his fingers on each of the last three words, crooking them in search of the right spot. 

Tony can't help it; he gasps and twists, losing what's left of his composure in one white moment. "If--forget it, just fuck me," he says, the words coming out as half a plea.

"Bossy bottom," Derek says under his breath. He takes his time in drawing out his fingers and wiping them clean, one part to torture Tony and one part to get himself under control before he rolls the condom on. He moves between Tony's legs and grabs one of the pillows to slip beneath his hips, and lines himself up to push in slowly. 

"Jesus," Tony whispers, and yeah, maybe it has been too long. Probably has, not since--no, not going there. Tony looks up at Morgan, focusing on him, the way he looks and the way he feels. 

Derek looks back at Tony, struggling not to move until he's sure Tony's ready. He starts slow, leaning down to kiss Tony, fitting their hands together to pull Tony's arms up and hold them flat against the bed. 

"Gonna--gonna hold me down?" Tony asks, tugging gently at Derek's hold. 

"You need me to?" Derek asks, trying to hold back his own little shiver at Tony's question. "If I'd known you were into that, I would've brought cuffs."

"I've got 'em if you want 'em," Tony says. "Shoulda--mentioned it earlier, I guess. Don't need them, just--like this, okay?"

"Yeah," Derek says, kissing the corner of Tony's mouth. "Next time." 

"Yeah, okay," Tony says, returning the kiss.

Derek smiles and uses his grip on Tony's hands for leverage, building to a steady, hard rhythm. He drags one hand free and reaches down to jerk Tony off in time with his thrusts, determined to make him come first. 

Tony curses, trying to move with Morgan as best he can. He's close, getting there faster than he wants but fuck it, he doesn't care right now. Not when--"Fuck," Tony whispers as he comes hard enough to make his body ache. 

Derek would laugh at Tony's limited vocabulary if he could, but he understands, especially when his own is narrowing to hot, tight, and, "Oh, god." He gasps and groans, the motions of his body stuttering and stopping with his orgasm, and he doesn't care about collapsing down onto Tony after.

Tony's not inclined to make him move yet. They lie there in a sticky, sweaty heap for some minutes before Tony musters up the energy to shove at Morgan's shoulder and reach for the tissues.

"Trash?" Derek manages to ask, rolling away from Tony. He spots the can on the other side of the nightstand and tosses out the condom, then drops back against the bed for a moment. "Worth the wait?"

"Yeah," Tony says, cleaning himself off and tossing the box to Derek. "Worth it for you?"

Derek nods, wiping away the mess on his stomach. "Yeah," he says, sitting up. "I should..."

Tony shrugs. "Stay if you want," he says. "Unless the Bureau makes you work on Saturdays."

"Not this week anyway," Derek says, setting the pillow they used down on the floor next to the bed. He grabs his jeans while he's leaning over and pulls out his wallet. "Here." He hands Tony one of his business cards. "First and last name, office location, phone numbers."

"Trade you," Tony says, opening his nightstand and taking out one of his own. He hands it over and tucks Morgan's away after reading it.

"That way you can just call me if you're having a bad day," Derek says, slipping the card into his wallet before putting it back. "Or a good one. You do have good days, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Tony says. "About as often as you do." He smiles. "I need a glass of water. You want one?" 

Derek yawns, shaking his head. "No, thanks." He climbs out of bed just long enough to pull the covers back and crawl under them, dozing off before Tony comes back. 

~* ~* ~*~

Behind the bar, Daniel watches them walk in together, shoulders bumping, hands brushing, and Derek says something that makes Tony throw his head back and laugh. He grins and pours himself a well-earned drink. "Here's to another match made at Holly's."


End file.
